


Good Men, Hard Choices

by flibbertygigget



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e05 Children of Earth - Day 5, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Death, Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Morality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28441503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: Some things are immutable. The 456 Incident, the near-murder of 10% of Earth's children, is one of those things. John Frobisher's death is not.Or: The Twelfth Doctor meddles.
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor & John Frobisher
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Good Men, Hard Choices

_An ordinary man: that's the most important thing in creation._   
_\- Ninth Doctor, "Father's Day"_

Some things are immutable. Fixed points in time, the anchors that separate the universe one is in from any other. Three-dimensional beings are always surprised to find that the smallest of things can be the pivot point around which galaxies can ride. Three-dimensional beings are also pudding-headed enough to think that their definition of significant matters in the grand swell of the universe.

The 456 Incident, the near-murder of 10% of the planet Earth's children, is one of those things that is deeply significant only to the planet which has to live through it. It is also one of the fixed points in time that the Doctor had anchored to Earth during the height of the Time War. Well, specific elements, at least, were anchored then. Here is what is immutable: the being humans call the 456 will make its demands, Torchwood Three will be destroyed, Captain Jack Harkness will kill his grandson to save the world.

Everything else is window dressing, but there's a reason it took the Doctor until he was over 2000 to even think of putting his hand in. There was too much margin for error, too many places where a four-dimensional being could tip the scales and destroy the anchor, too many moments where the temptation to meddle would be overwhelming. Better, safer, to let time take its course.

He has this face for a reason. The universe will begin to unravel if he tries to save everyone, and he has to accept that, move on from that. But he can save someone.

The psychic paper takes him through every obstacle and up to the floor that houses the Home Office. He gets a few double-takes from the civil servants tapping away at their workstations, but his face has been frowned enough that it can be brushed off as a passing resemblance. He finds his way to the PA's desk, glancing down at the nameplate in front of her.

"Ms. Spears," he says, brusque but not unkind, "I need to speak with John Frobisher immediately."

"Do you have an appointment?" Suspicion and just a hint of protectiveness. Not that he blames her after the past few days she's been having.

"I believe this should clarify matters," he says, flashing the psychic paper. He knows exactly what it will say: Doctor John Smith, UNIT UK, Torchwood 1 Temporary Liaison. It's a combination of words that will probably only serve him so well at this place during this time. Bridget Spears' eyes widen slightly as she takes it in.

"He's asked not to be disturbed," she says, slightly apologetic. "I'll just... see if he'll let you pop in."

"Do," the Doctor says. He drums his fingers against the palm of his hand and decidedly doesn't eavesdrop on the hushed conversation taking place at John Frobisher's office door. He isn't nervous - he can't see his action or inaction making things worse than they would be if they stayed on their current course. He sorts through the threads of time, mentally preparing for the conversation ahead.

"He says he'll see you now," Bridget Spears says, jostling him from his thoughts. The Doctor gives her a nod and walks into the belly of the beast.

"Dr. Smith," John Frobisher says, standing to shake the Doctor's hand. His eyes are red, face a grayish pallor, his hand in the Doctor's shaking slightly. "Please, sit. I - What brings you here?"

"I think that answer should be obvious," the Doctor says. Frobisher nods too quickly.

"Yes, yes, of course. You want answers, I suppose. Torchwood 3, us keeping UNIT out of the loop-"

"I already have all the answers I need, at least on those fronts," the Doctor says. "I have come about a different matter."

"I - I see," Frobisher says. "How can I help you?" There are a few threads in front of him that the Doctor can see offer pathways to success. He studies each in turn, and then he locks in his decision.

"About half an hour ago, you were informed that your daughters, Lilly and Holly, would be publicly handed over to the 456. You threatened to go to the press with the truth, but even as you said it you knew you would never do it. The risk of mass hysteria and many more lives lost in the process was and is too great."

"How did you-" The Doctor held up a hand.

"As liaison between Torchwood 3 and the government, you were given a standard-issue handgun. You have already decided that you will use that handgun to murder your daughters, your wife, and then yourself rather than allow the girls to be handed over to the 456." The Doctor brought down his hand and fixed Frobisher with his most intense stare. "Am I correct in the essential facts of your situation?"

"I- Yes. Every one. But how-"

"It doesn't matter how," the Doctor says. "You know who I work for; you do the math. I am here to tell you to rethink your decision."

"But - But why?" says Frobisher. "I can't - If you know so much about all this already, you _know_ I can't - Not them, not my girls."

"And would death be better? Where there's life, there's hope."

"UNIT's got a plan, hasn't it?" Frobisher says, and he sounds almost painfully hopeful. "Any information you need, anything, I'll give it to you."

"That won't be necessary," says the Doctor. "All I need is your word." Frobisher hesitates then, eyes clouding with pain and fear and hopelessness once again.

"Why me?" he says, and the Doctor knows that this is the crux of the conversation, the moment where the threads can fray and break off into wisps of might-have-beens at the drop of a pin. "Dr. Smith, I - If you know so much, then you know I'm not a good man."

"Aren't you?" says the Doctor. "Your PA certainly believes that you're a good man. Your daughters believe you're a good man, though they wouldn't put it in those terms. Your colleagues, your friends, the barista who makes your cup of coffee when you go to the cafe every Friday - they all believe you're a good man."

"But I'm not!" Frobisher says, slamming his hands on the desk. "I - I was put in charge of the 456 situation, and I couldn't find a way - I destroyed Torchwood 3, the blank sheet-"

"I know," the Doctor says. Frobisher slumps back in his desk. "I know you're not a good man."

"Then why are you here?" Frobisher says hollowly. The Doctor crosses one leg over the other, fiddling with his ring.

"Mr. Frobisher, you are not a good man," he says, "but you're not a bad man either. You are a mediocre man, just like the vast majority of men in the history of the universe. You hold a door open for one person, you cut another off in traffic. You always remember your colleagues' birthdays, you snap at your daughters when you have a particularly bad day at work. Your life is made up of thousands of little kindnesses and cruelties, just like every other person. And, yes, you've committed far more cruelty than kindness these past few days. That doesn't mean you don't deserve to go on."

"It isn't about that," Frobisher says. "Lilly and Holly- _that_ would be cruel. I can't- I can't let them- And I know I'm a hypocrite, I know I was willing to cart of all those kids like cattle-"

"You've been used as a middleman and a scapegoat," the Doctor says. "You haven't done enough, I know that, but neither do you deserve a full measure of guilt for the decisions others made. The question now is where you will go from here."

"They'd be better off dead than with the 456. _I'd_ be better off dead."

"I don't believe that," the Doctor says. "But then again, I am firmly on the side of life, no matter what the form, no matter what the past or present or future. Because a mediocre life, an ordinary life, is always capable of so many things."

"Like what? Even if I don't go through with it, even if I let my girls get stolen and tortured by those _things,_ I'll be crucified when the public finds out. Heaven knows I'll deserve it, every bit of it, but I want-" Frobisher rubs his eyes, pushing back exhausted tears. "I just want to do the right thing, Dr. Smith, but I don't see any right things to do."

"Sometimes," the Doctor says, "the only choices you have are bad ones, but you still have to choose. I can't offer you reassurance that you're doing it right or absolution if you do it wrong. You're the only one who can judge your own actions. But I do know that Earth would be poorer with the loss of you and your family." The Doctor stands up. The threads have run their course; it's in time's and John Frobisher's hands now. "If you can't commit to a lifetime, Mr. Frobisher, wait one day before you go through with it. One day, that's all I'm asking." For a long moment Frobisher is silent, looking pale and uncertain.

"Fine," he says at last. "I can promise you one day." Threads fade away and vistas open in the Doctor's time-sense, and he knows that whatever else John Frobisher might be thinking he's telling the truth in this at least.

"Thank you," the Doctor says. _There, Donna,_ he thinks. _Four someones saved._


End file.
